


Bowling Pin + Science "Facts"

by anguishmacgyver, TetrodotoxinB



Series: Whumptober 2020 [18]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Abduction, Assault is not on screen, But it's no one we care about, But there are some very clear threats on screen, Day 18, Death by bludgeoning, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attack, Riley and Jack are the best, Sexual Assault, Someone's getting bomped on the head and dying, Whumptober 2020, aftermath of rape, hostage, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27072658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anguishmacgyver/pseuds/anguishmacgyver, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TetrodotoxinB/pseuds/TetrodotoxinB
Summary: Mac comes in looking scuffed up after having gone missing for a day. He’s not alone.Words by Tetro. Art by Anguish.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947493
Comments: 20
Kudos: 59
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Bowling Pin + Science "Facts"

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [aravenwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aravenwood/pseuds/aravenwood) for her extreme kindness in being willing to beta all of these whumptober fills! Especially so since she's also writing her own (amazing!) fics too! Please go check her out and give her some love!!! 
> 
> Please heed the tags. This one is a lot heavier than the most of the stuff I write in this vein. 
> 
> Also let's give Anguish some love for her awesome photo manips!!! She does awesome stuff and helped me riff of her work to make this <3 Check her out on tumblr [here](https://anguishmacgyver.tumblr.com/).

Jack has been worried sick since Mac didn’t answer his text messages last night. Going over and finding Mac’s house empty, his phone on the kitchen counter, and his car in the drive didn’t do anything to assuage that fear. Now it’s been nearly twenty-four hours and they have zero leads. No forensics, nothing on traffic cams, no porch cams with the neighbors — nothing. Mac’s just gone and Jack has nothing to do but sit on his hands and wait.

So Jack waits at Mac’s house like he’s waiting for a puppy that’s run away. Like if he’s at the place where Mac went missing he’ll be somehow more apt to locate his missing bomb nerd. Jack’s already eaten Mac’s leftovers and watered the house plants. Now he’s drumming his fingers on the countertop and waiting for Riley to come back with takeout. Even she’s at a dead end and that, more than anything, scares the shit out of Jack.

The front door opens and Jack wonders how she got back so soon. He figures she either hit every light green or ran some reds, until Mac steps in. He’s got a split lip and a blackening eye but looks otherwise alright.

“Mac, man am I glad to see you. What the hell happened? We were all worried sick,” Jack says, rising from the barstool.

But Mac’s expression is tight and guarded and he moves forward almost mechanically. A second later Jack sees why.

Murdoc steps through the door, a gun leveled at the back of Mac’s head. “Oh hello, Jack. Fancy seeing you here. Mac and I were just going to have a little ‘boys’ night in’ if you will. It's why we’re both so dressed up. But I see we have company! I’m sure it’ll be so much more fun with your company, won’t it Angus?”

Mac swallows and the masks slips, desperation and fear flickering across his face. “I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt Jack.”

“Woah there, hoss. Just because Captain Shit-for-brains has a gun doesn’t mean you get to call the shots about who hurts me, Mac. You ain’t gotta do a damn thing he says,” Jack objects.

Murdoc gapes, though a smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “Jack Dalton, I am insulted. I absolutely _do_ get to call the shots. Most especially because I have a gun. Besides, Mac’s just shy, I think you’ll love the performance he gives when he puts his heart into it.”

Jack’s stomach drops into his boots because he’s not sure what in the hell Murdoc’s getting at but damned if that creepy leer doesn’t imply something he’s not ready to consider. “Alright, look. Why don’t we all just take a minute to think about this.”

Murdoc grins and puts a possessive hand on Mac’s shoulder. “Oh, I have been thinking of this, for quite some time actually. Mac can tell you from experience that I’ve put quite a lot of thought into how I would like this particular evening to play out. We practiced last night. Back at my place. He was very vocal about-”

Jack can’t take this. He knows damn good and well what Murdoc’s getting at, and whether or not he’s already done _that_ to Mac, it sure isn’t about to happen here and now. Not while Jack is still breathing. “Look, shit-stain. Maybe I was unclear about the nature of the minute I’m wanting you to take. The minute is not for Mac, it’s for you so you can wrap your little pin-head brain around the fact that you’re not doing anything else with Mac ever again. So drop the gun and put your hands up.”

Murdoc laughs. “What exactly do you think you’re going to do, Jack? Shoot me? Your gun is on the end table beside the sofa. Are you planning to annoy me to death? Admittedly, you’re off to a great start. But unfortunately I’m not really interested in standing here until you pester me into a coma, so if you’re all done with your ‘thoughts’ I am rather interested in getting this show on the road, if you follow my meaning.”

For emphasis, Murdoc palms his groin, pressing hard against what Jack realizes is the outline of a partial erection. Jack swallows hard to avoid vomiting and looks back at Mac. He’s stock still save for a fine tremor that runs the length of his body, a tremor that Murdoc has to feel with the hand that still grips Mac’s shoulder.

“Shall we?” Murdoc asks, his voice saccharine sweet as though he’s asking a lover, not a prisoner.

Mac begins to walk forward and Murdoc jerks him to a stop. “Jack goes first. Hands on the back of your head, interlace your fingers. There’s a good boy,” Murdoc coos when Jack complies. “Now we’re going to Mac’s bedroom. I’m sure you know the way.”

Jack steps into the intended path and turns his back to Mac and Murdoc, leading the way. He’d rather be walking to the firing squad than this.

But they don’t make it three more steps before Jack hears a sickening wet crunch followed by a thud. He turns to see Riley holding the bowling pin Mac keeps in the wastebasket by the front door, the one that doubles as an umbrella stand, and Murdoc is crumpled to the ground in a lifeless heap, a pool of blood growing under his dark hair.

“Fuck that guy,” Riley mutters.

Mac doesn’t say anything as Jack kicks the gun away from Murdoc’s hand and calls it into HQ. He’s frozen, eyes on Murdoc’s body. Jack knows why and it won’t be long until Riley figures it out too, but there’s not gonna come anything good of standing over his assailant’s body so Jack reaches out to herd Mac towards the sofa. But the moment his hand makes contact with Mac’s arm he jumps and the tremor becomes full on shaking, his whole body practically spasming as his breathing increases to the point of hyperventilation.

“Easy, Mac. I won’t touch you. No one’s gonna touch you without your say so. But right now we need to get to the living room. Can you do that? Can you walk to the living room?” Jack says softly.

Jack can see the tears welling up in Riley’s eyes and he knows that she’s already figured it out. And Jack hates that, too. That Riley, and every other woman he knows and cares about, stays on high alert at all times, that they know how to read between the lines when it comes to shit like this, that they check the backseat of their car and a million other things just to be safe. He hates everything in the world, if only for their sakes because he can’t even protect his kids from shit like this.

Mac is still standing there, gasping for air and shaking like the last leaf on a tree in December. He can’t move on his own and Jack knows that if he goes down next to Murdoc it’ll only escalate this. So lesser of two evils, Jack just puts a hand on Mac’s shoulder and steers him to the living room. They’re almost to the sofa when Mac’s knees buckle and Jack just lets him go. They’re out of sight of Murdoc’s stupid corpse and that’s all that matters.

It’s not a graceful fall. It’s less of a crumpling and more of a misstep mid-stride. One leg folds and he tries to compensate but ends up with his feet sliding out from under himself and he lands smack on his ass. Any other time it would be hilarious, but the shriek of pain when Mac contacts the floor is the last straw for Jack and tears begin to run down his face.

Carefully, Mac folds himself into a ball on his knees. His weight is on his lower legs and feet, and Mac can rock steadily while he works through the shock. Jack desperately wants to touch, to pull Mac close where he knows he’s safe, but Mac’s brain, for all the extra fancy neurons he’s got packed in there, has shut down everything but the basics. Jack’s seen it happen before to both soldiers and civilians. At a certain point, everyone and everything becomes a threat and there’s no way to differentiate anymore. Jack knows that the best he can do is wait it out and keep Mac feeling safe until it passes. Quickly, he texts Matty to rein in the cavalry, and bless the woman, she doesn’t even ask Jack why.

Riley and Jack sit on the sofa and wait. It’s weird, though, trying to wait out a panic attack for the person who’s knelt on the floor right in front of them. It feels like they’re watching him or something, but after a few tense minutes it’s Riley who solves that problem.

“I wonder if it’s really true that your blood is blue until it mixes with air. I mean it doesn’t really make sense since it only looks that way if you’re white,” Riley says apropos of nothing.

Jack stares at her for a moment and she makes a face like “Get with the program” and inclines her head in Mac’s direction. “Nah, blood’s only blue if the oxygen’s been used up. Otherwise it’s red.”

“Oh, huh. Alright. Well anyway, I know for a fact that if you leave half an onion in a room with a sick person it will draw out the infection and when they get up in the morning the onion will be black,” Riley says.

Jack shakes his head. “Nuh uh. That’s potatoes.”

“Potatoes?” Riley asks, looking affronted. “Are you saying my mama lied?”

“No, I would never say that about your mother, Riley. I am simply saying that it’s a well known remedy that you use potatoes.to draw out infections. Same thing with gout, in fact. Worked wonders on my dad. You eat a bunch of baked potatoes with the skin and it draws out all the crap that causes the gout,” Jack says, swearing like he’s testifying under oath.

Riley makes a rather incredulous face. “You have got to me kidding me.”

Jack shrugs. “What? It worked for him. Mama drinks potato water for ulcers but man that’s one I’ll just have to go to the doctor on. I can’t stand potato water.”

“Jack, you’re Scottish, not Irish. What’s going on with the potatoes in your house?” Riley asks.

Jack shrugs. “Hey, if it works it works.”

“Oh you mean like the onion trick?” Riley retorts.

“Yeah, alright fair enough. Your mother is an amazing and smart woman and I don’t doubt her,” Jack finally concedes.

Riley nods her head, accepting his defeat, and says, “So anyway, have you noticed that cold water boils faster than hot water?”

Jack can sense the utter bullshit radiating from Riley because both of them know better than that, but Jack plays along, arguing his part and adding in whatever schoolyard nonsense he picked up over the years. Anything, really, to appeal to Mac’s science-brain and drag him back to reality. And for all that Jack pretends to be devoting his attention to Riley, he’s watching Mac like a hawk. He can tell when Mac starts to bring himself back down and he can hear Mac’s breathing quiet as the panic recedes.

It’s when Mac finally speaks that Jack feels like he can relax enough to drop at least some of the act of pretending he’s okay and everything's alright when the world is anything but.

“You can’t get cold the same way you get hot,” he rasps.

Jack shares a look with Riley before replying. “Sure you can. If it’s warm out, you get warm. If it’s cold out, you get cold.”

“If it’s warm out, you feel warm because you gain thermal energy from the environment. If it’s cold out, the environment gains thermal energy from you and you lose it so you feel cold, but cold isn’t a thing in and of itself,” Mac explains in between gasps and stutters.

Jack tips his head sideways like a confused golden retriever. “What is it you kids say? ‘That seems fake but I don’t know enough about that to refute it?’”

Riley laughs and Mac chokes on a laugh.

“Something like that,” Riley replies.

It takes another couple of minutes of Jack purposefully being dense about elementary school science before Mac manages to extract himself from the floor. He sits on the sofa with one leg tucked carefully underneath himself.

“So what are we doing about…” Mac gestures towards the hallway.

“Matty’s just waiting on my word. I didn’t want half the Phoenix storming your house while you were still trying to get your sea legs,” Jack explains. “But if you’re ready I bet Matty’s chomping at the bit.”

Mac nods. “Might as well.”

In a matter of minutes Mac’s house is filled with forensics techs and surrounded by tac teams. Jack can see Mac’s pulse just hammering away in the veins on his neck, and he proposes a quick getaway to his apartment. Mac is all too happy to leave and doesn’t even bother to pack, just walks stiffly out the door and sits gingerly in the front seat of Jack’s GTO. Riley stays behind both to help Matty and to give them some space.

“Mac-”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Mac cuts in. “I know you’re right, but I can’t handle going to the hospital right now.”

Jack nods. “I wouldn’t wanna go through that either. It’s bad enough when you’ve only been shot.”

That startles a huffed laugh from Mac who seems to be almost smiling. “Yeah, it is.”

“Look, Mac, you’re an adult. I don’t wanna treat you like a baby so I’m not gonna force you to do anything, but you need some sort of medical help. We could call Dr. Weaver, ask her meet us at my place. She could do whatever there.”

Mac tenses up but nods. “That- I can probably do that.”

There was time, at least for Jack, where having Dr. Weaver see so much of _everything_ that it kind of bothered him, what with her being a woman and all. But after years at the Phoenix and countless gunshot wounds, stab wounds, lacerations, broken bones, poisonings, fevers, and more, there’s really not any mystery left. She’s just the lady they trust to put everything back together again. Jack hopes that while this is definitely not their typical ticket to medical, that there’s enough trust built up between her and Mac that it’s at least manageable, better than a stranger at any rate.

*****

Three hours later Dr. Weaver has come and gone, the prescriptions are laid out on the kitchen counter, and they’ve got takeout. Mac mostly picks at his food until Jack promises that they can watch a documentary series on the history of Middle Eastern astronomy instead of Die Hard. He knows it’s not really Mac suddenly feeling excited about food but rather him acquiescing to Jack’s concern. Either way, mission accomplished.

Though Jack is loath to admit it, the documentary — which is clearly geared for people like him and not for people like Mac — is pretty interesting. He’s kinda getting into the aside about the invention of algebra, when Mac clears his throat.

“Thank you,” he says simply.

“I mean, you’re welcome. But what for?” Jack asks.

Mac shrugs. “Everything. I don’t know. I’m kinda numb right now which is actually kinda great, but I also can’t quite put words together. I just feel grateful. That’s all.”

Jack understands overwhelmed and numb. “I get it. And you’re welcome. Anything, hoss. I mean it.”

The TV continues on about advances in trigonometry and Jack can almost recall the math they did in sniper school well enough to follow the narrator. If he weren’t so tired and wrung out, this might be sorta interesting.

“Jack?” Mac asks timidly. Jack almost never hears that voice, the caution and fear when Mac asks a question that he thinks is too out there or too needy but absolutely is not at all.

“Mac?” Jack answers.

“Can I stay here? I mean for a while. I’m not sure I can go home,” Mac admits.

The thought of going back to Mac’s place where Murdoc’s blood stains the hall floor, where he made it clear to Jack that he was planning to rape Mac in his own bed while Jack had to watch — it’s enough that the takeout rumbles in his stomach.

“Mac, I’d prefer it if you did. I’m- man there’s just a lot about your place right now. And I guarantee there’ll be folks in and out for days. Not to mention I’m not ready to let you out of my sight just yet.”

Mac nods and looks relieved. “Yeah, same.”

Hell, if it were up to Jack he’d sell the damn house and then move somewhere where they could live comfortably together for as long as Mac needs. But it’s not up to Jack so he’ll just go with whatever Mac wants.

“Great. It’s settled.”

They finish the documentary in silence and then start another episode. Somewhere in the middle of it, Mac dozes off. Jack smiles and finds them both blankets. He dims the lights a bit and puts the current episode on loop, so that Mac will have dreams of astrolabes and compasses instead of whatever shit Murdoc did to him. Then he gets out his phone, orders a bed frame and mattress for morning delivery — because damned if Jack’s gonna make Mac couch surf, and then he sets his phone aside and closes his eyes.

Mac might not realize it, but Jack’s been working the same job since the Army — take care of the bomb nerd. Sure Jack kicks ass and takes names working for the Phoenix, but in the end he’s only there because Mac is there. So like any other mission Jack takes, he resolves to himself that they’ll get through this. Jack doesn’t know how yet, but whatever it takes, he’ll be there because that’s his job.


End file.
